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“The Intelligentsia of the artistic and vaguely anarchic clubs was indeed a very strange world. and the strangest thing about it, I fancy, was that, while it thought a great deal about thinking, it did not think.

“Everything seemed to come at second or third hand; from Nietzsche or Tolstoy or Ibsen or Shaw; and there was a pleasant atmosphere of discussing all these things, without any particular sense of responsibility for coming to any conclusion on them.”